As the leaves began to fall onto the weary embrace of our shared grandmothers great grasping gritty earth, the good folks from the hills came to the city that reads to share with us the gumbo of life, Appalachian hillbilly disco. In all its clay-eatin glory, The Recipe served up an enlightening array of sonic wonder that leaves a grin and a shine to my face, and their release party for Geode was quite the blessing to blast into space upon a gilded broom and a prayer. They opened it all up with "Real Wilde Cinema" from the new one and it spiraled out of control from there. They tore up the essence of "Rocky Top" in a profound way, but it was the trip through "Bonemeal" that really had me full of teeth. They initiated us all into the second set with a smile skipping "Affected Specimen". That particular behemoth of a ditty is one of the most endearing tunes I have ever heard in my life. Its spine tingling call to the cosmos led me with a glimpse into the underbelly of the reckoning yet to come that was singed into my being like a branding iron, or better still, some kinda weird ass probe from intergalactic schoolchildren conducting their very own science fair project from Universe High. As I recall, there were some hauntingly familiar sounds dazzling my senses that night, and I was struck with the troubling awareness that they were conjuring a most daring and elusive trek through, "Another Brick in the Wall", that left me without pause yet fully convinced of their powerful grip upon the wonders of aura that will lurk about with me throughout all of my dreams. I really got a jolt from "Aurora Borealis" and I could have sworn that there were some dancing lights flickerin about in that little place by the waterside. However, with the "Lingerie" a flyin and even some boxer shorts thrown in for good measure at the encore, the Affected return to the Specimen that wanders was some much needed tricksterrific bliss that still makes me shiver and shake with each grasp I make in thinking about what a wonderful band of gypsies are at play in helping make this world seem a better dream. Kristen Wolverton has a spectral voice that lingers and lilts in a benevolent prism of criss-crossin' joy and delight. However, when the need arises she can shake up your soul appropriately with a deeply channeled bluesy swagger that can stop all the fluttering motion in this illusory realm. Joe Prichard can tweak your senses just right with that backcountry axe-swinging guitar style and his voice is a friendly guide to help you make it through the murky depths of your spirit. Tom Whelan has a groove all his own on the thunderin' percussion and Gregg Lowley is the keeper of time entrusted with the solid task of holdin' it all together on his killa kans. Mike Vitale has an innate feel for the dream he creeps up upon with his bass, but it is Hannah Ross that gets me every time with that ecstatic voice she draws out on her violin. Playin amongst all of these ultra fine elements is the maker of good vibes and foot-stompin hayridin highs, Amos Ross, on the one true American instrument-the dadgum banjo. These folks have the secret stash, a recipe so hidden in its creation yet so lovingly crafted, that has been handed down to all of us that you all would be foolish not to have a taste.